What Do You Say?
by ScarlettInkwell
Summary: What do you say, at a moment like this; when you can't find the words to tell it like it is?


**What Do You Say?**

They had managed to hide it for so long; no one knew, except for Ducky. He had wanted to let Lauren and Nicholas know. Lauren, at the very least. After all, she was already seventeen.

Every time it had gotten too bad, Jethro had brought the children over to Ducky's house for a few days, telling them that there was a case that would keep both their parents at NCIS late.

Jenny had steadily been getting weaker and weaker, her bad days now outnumbering the good ones. Gradually, Jethro could see the realization and dread growing in his daughter's eyes.

You could only fool such an old soul for so long.

Their twelve year old, though, still held the blissful unawareness in his eyes with ease.

Jethro had not wanted to trouble Jenny with his qualms about hiding this from their children.

After all, he knew exactly what she would say:

"It is my fight. There is no need to drag them into this."

* * *

Her every breath was weaker than the last and lately, there had been one too many thought provoking conversations on their pasts.

Their combined regrets - the way they left things in Paris, how they had initially resisted each other when their paths converged once again.

Each of their individual regrets - how long Jenny had wasted chasing La Grenouille and how she had let it take over her life. How Jethro had risked everything to murder Pedro Hernandez and hid the truth about Shannon and Kelly from Jenny for so many years.

How they had each focused their lives on their careers and had lost so many opportunities as a result.

* * *

Now, Jenny had yet another regret to add to her list: the regret that she would never see her children grow up and never grow old with her husband. She had to leave it all behind for a white gown and downy wings that she had never wanted in the first place.

* * *

Her skin had always been very pale, a mesmerizing shade of pale cream that was almost alabaster.

Now, it had taken on a sickly luminous quality, her veins shining through her paled skin with a blue-green tinge. It made her look bruised all over.

* * *

He held her in her arms no matter how horrible the day had gone.

Her shoulder blades were horrifyingly sharp and bony now; even more so than before.

The scarlet threads that made up her full head of thick red curls had thinned. Now all that was left was a few wayward wisps that clung stubbornly like baby hair.

He had shaved all his hair off as a show of solidarity.

The red wig they had found her looked almost identical to her hair before this all began, but the only one who would ever tell that it was different was him.

* * *

They were stuck in Bethesda's oncology ward once again, Jenny in the uncomfortable hospital bed that she had gotten used to by now, connected to so many machines that all served one purpose - to keep her alive.

No one should ever have to get used to a hospital bed.

* * *

It was rare that anyone had ever seen Director Jennifer Shepard shed a tear.

Heck, it was next to impossible.

That being said, Jethro could not even count the number of times Jenny had sat in front of her boudoir and slowly, gingerly removed her wig.

Their door was always locked now, so their children would never walk in on it.

* * *

At that moment, every night, all she was was Jenny.

Not the first female and youngest director of an armed federal agency ever.

Not the ex-NCIS Special Agent.

Not the mother of two amazing children.

* * *

She was just Jenny - the woman who was dying.

And then, only then, did she allow herself to shed a tear.

One tear, no more.

* * *

She would remove the wig and lift a shaking hand to the few wisps of hair left on her head.

She would look deep into the mirror and see it augment how tired she looked.

She would turn to Jethro and mutter brokenly that she wished it was over.

This was the only time she let the disease get her down.

Otherwise, she would be up and about, taking care of her children and home as well as the entire agency of NCIS.

No one else knew she was ill.

* * *

No one else needed to.

* * *

She lay in that bed, a fragile marionette that could be broken at any accidental jarring.

He sat beside her and held her frail hand, praying that she was not in too much pain.

As the machines monotonous beeping lulled him into a daze, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, her face turning towards him.

Her eyes were still filled with that spark of life, the tenacity and drive to fight to her last breath.

If that spark went out, her time was up.

* * *

Her chapped lips parted and a weary, faint voice barely floated out.

"Jethro, please, I want to go home."

* * *

He sighed deeply.

What do you say, at a moment like this? Can you even find the words that can tell it like it is?

There was too much to be said and too little time to say it.

Yet too little that could be said to fill up the void as it grew.

* * *

"Jen-" He drew in a breath. It broke his heart to have to turn her down, "I'll check with the doctor, okay? If he gives the all clear, we can go home."

Clasping her hand a little tighter, he continued warily, "Jen, could we, maybe, tell the kids and the team about this? I know Lauren and Ziva both think something is very wrong."

The only response he got was the shallow breathing of his wife stuck between unconsciousness and sleep and the constant beeping of a dozen machines.

Unwilling to leave her side in case he missed something, he pressed the buzzer above her bed for the nurse.

Her usual nurse hurried in.

She had been here so much that they already knew each other pretty well.

"Good morning, Genevieve. Could you ask Doctor Fadden, if you have a chance, whether it is alright for me to take Jenny home?"

The blonde was sympathetic, having seen all too many of these cases in her time at Bethesda.

"Sure, Gibbs. She misses it, huh?"

"I think it disturbs her that she might spend her last day at the hospital, away from the kids and the team."

"I'll go get Doctor Fadden for you and draw up the discharge papers." She chuckled morbidly, "After all, there's not much we can do for her here that you can't do at home, at this point."

Genevieve hurried off.

* * *

He kissed Jenny's knuckles lightly, his eyes caressing every curve and plane that made up her body.

She would be gone soon. He had to accept that she was fading fast.

"God, Jen. Why you?" He rasped out.

What did you say, at a moment like this, when everything seems to sound so wrong and nothing can even begin to make things better?

* * *

"I love you, Jen." He held on tightly to his memories of their days together like a lifeline, just as he had for the entire time between that last day in Paris and the day she let him kiss her again.

Picking up the phone, he called the team to meet them at their house in an hour. Ducky would bring the kids.

With the papers signed and approval given by a saddened doctor, Jethro packed up what little things Jenny had brought over and helped her change into a pin striped button down shirt and slacks.

Even at a time like this, she wanted to look presentable.

Carefully fixing the wig so it sat naturally, he picked her up easily.

It thoroughly perturbed him, how effortless it was for him to lift her up nowadays.

Settling her into the wheelchair, he pushed slowly and made the all too familiar trek back to the car. This would probably be the last time they would ever make this journey.

"Thank you, Jethro." She cracked a weary smile, "I don't think I could handle having to spend the last few days I have in that room."

He put a large hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"We'll tell them when we get home, Jen. They're all going to be there and we can tell them."

"Alright."

He lifted her into the passenger seat of his Charger.

* * *

She had refused to let her driver send them to and from the hospital - if the people around her started treating her like she would break, she would have gone crazy.

Now she knows she can break anytime.

The drive back to their home was short, fifteen minutes at most.

Gibbs had even driven back ten miles below the speed limit.

And obeyed every single traffic law that pertained to them.

That was not quite enough time for either of them to get used to the idea of telling anyone.

Let alone everyone.

* * *

"Okay Jethro, here goes."

He parked the car quickly, picking up the bag in the backseat with one hand and lifting her carefully, bridal style.

"They'll be here in five minutes." Gently he put her down on the couch and settled the pillows around her, draping a soft knit blanket over her, "Get some rest first."

There was no protest; she was already asleep.

* * *

Gibbs tried to keep himself upright.

He really did.

But in a matter of seconds, he was crumpled on the floor with his head cradled in his hands.

Acutely, he could feel the scrape of the callouses on his hands on his face.

But everything was numb.

Hearing the scuffle of his children's footsteps, he scrambled to his feet and composed himself.

* * *

The door was shoved open and a torrent of children - most of the team and the actual children - burst through the door.

Lauren, Ziva and Ducky followed them quietly, Ducky's expression slightly pinched.

Lauren and Ziva just looked concerned.

As everyone got themselves seated, Gibbs noted the puzzled look on many of their faces when they saw Jenny lying on the couch.

* * *

This was one of the first times any of them had seen her without her 'healthy' make up on.

Her cheeks were sunken, her face gaunt and shadowed.

Her wig was askew from her laying on the couch, leaving a strip of bald scalp exposed.

* * *

She looked sick.

* * *

Quietly, he began to explain it all away.

"She's dying, guys. I'm sorry we didn't tell you earlier. We just couldn't."

Turning to face his children, he held each of their hands and grasped them tight.

"She loves you guys too much to see you feel sad over this."

Facing the rest of the team, he muttered softly.

"She loves all of us too much."

Ziva was the first to break the silence.

"Gibbs, how long does Jen have?"

"Dad, how could you not tell us?"

His daughter stared at him, incredulous.

* * *

"The doctors say it could be days, it could be weeks. A month, maybe, if she's lucky."

Every member of the family mourned for the impending loss.

Why Jenny?

* * *

No one dared speak again.

After all, what do you say, at a moment like this? Is there really any word that can make it any better?

* * *

Silently, they mourned for the woman who slept beside them.


End file.
